


No Vacancy

by Mikauzoran



Series: Productive Procrastination Prompt Giveaway [10]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrinette, Aged-Up (18), Bad Parent Gabriel Agreste, Baking, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Fluff, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, Love Confessions, Marichat, Partial Identity Reveal, Running Away, Sharing a Bed, Supportive Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, adrienette - Freeform, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26938048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikauzoran/pseuds/Mikauzoran
Summary: Adrien has had enough of being unloved and unwanted. When he finally runs away, Chat Noir unexpectedly finds a new home with Marinette and her family and discovers his feelings for his friend are stronger than anticipated over a late-night baking lesson.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Series: Productive Procrastination Prompt Giveaway [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1922590
Comments: 52
Kudos: 482





	No Vacancy

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! Thank you so much for checking out this story. I'm Mikau, and I'm so pleased to have you!
> 
> This story came about because I was bored and asked on Tumblr for people to send in prompts for me to work on so that I could still feel productive even while procrastinating on writing Chapter Thirty-Eight of Serendipity. This is the tenth one I received. It's from an anon. (Thank you for participating in my prompt giveaway!)
> 
> Prompt: late night marichat in the bakery?
> 
> I hope you enjoy the story!

Adrien hurried as quietly as possible back to his room, completely forgetting about his empty stomach in his haste.

His ears still rung with the cruel things Gabriel had said, not knowing his son was listening.

_“_ Not _his son,”_ Adrien corrected severely. _“A nuisance. A tool.”_

“Kid,” Plagg hissed as soon as the bedroom door was closed behind them. “Calm down. It’s going to be okay. You just have to—”

“—Do you think he ever loved me, Plagg?” Adrien sniffled, quickly changing out of pyjamas and back into street clothes.

“Adrien,” the kwami cooed, hanging limply in the air, feeling useless. “You need to focus on calming down. Don’t get akumatized over this. Please.”

“I won’t,” Adrien bitterly retorted as bile rose up in his stomach at the thought. “He’s not worth it.”

He went over to his closet and got out a homely black duffle bag, starting to fill it with the clothes he hated least.

“My whole life, all I’ve ever done was try to be good enough so that maybe he’d finally love me, and this is what I get for my trouble,” he spat into the bag.

“Adrien, what are you doing?” Plagg inquired nervously, as if Adrien were brandishing a dangerous weapon.

“Leaving,” he bit savagely. “I give up. I’m through making myself miserable trying. I’m eighteen. I don’t have to put up with this anymore.”

He double-checked the clothing he’d selected to make sure he had everything he needed and then moved on to toiletries.

Plagg followed his ward into the bathroom, frowning darkly. “Kid, I’m not necessarily opposed to the idea of getting you out of here, but it’s two in the morning. Can’t this wait until tomorrow? I don’t want you going out there tired and hungry with no idea of where you’re going to sleep.”

“No,” Adrien growled. “I need to leave before I chicken out. I can’t…” He paused in the middle of packing his bodywash to rub the tears from his eyes with the heel of his hand. “I can’t stay here another minute and let him come up with some excuse about how he didn’t mean it and he loves me and…and all the other things he says just when I’m about to give up on him. If I stay tonight, I’ll never leave, and I’m really tired of settling for _this_ , Plagg. I deserve…”

He shook his head, stuffing the bodywash into the duffle. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I deserve, but it has to be better than this empty mansion and this cold room and a never-ending onslaught of disappointment and never feeling like I’m good enough.”

Plagg flew over to his chosen and rubbed against his cheek, purring softly. “Okay. You’re right, Kid. You do deserve better. If you have to leave now to get that, leave now.”

Slowly, Adrien began to nod, choking out a “Thanks”.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” Plagg cooed.

Adrien took a shuddering breath. “Yeah. I just need to keep moving.”

“Yeah,” Plagg agreed as Adrien finished stuffing his personal care items into the bag.

Once done, Adrien hurried back into the main room and started grabbing personal possessions he wanted to take with him. He was surprised to find that there was actually very little of value among his numerous belongings.

He took the photo of his mother, some CDs Nino and Luka had burned for him, Marinette’s lucky charm, the little black cat stuffed animal Nathalie had given an eight-year-old Adrien in an attempt to garner favour, and various photos of him and his friends.

He hesitated before adding the scarf his father had given him for his fourteenth birthday. It was the only gift he’d ever received from his father that felt personal. It was a scrap of love that proved Gabriel had, at least at that one point in time, thought about Adrien and considered his feelings.

He carefully laid the scarf in the duffle, set some Camembert on top of it for Plagg, and zipped up the bag.

He took one last look around, trying to think of anything else he might miss if he left it behind, but nothing came to mind.

He set his phone down on his nightstand, took a deep breath, and looked to Plagg.

“Ready?” he asked, keenly aware of how his voice was shaking.

Plagg gave Adrien one last nuzzle before nodding. “Just say the words.”

“Plagg, transform me.”

At first, Chat was just running to be running, to feel like he was getting somewhere, away from his problems.

Then, the dread and the worry started to set in.

Where was he going? Where _could_ he go? Where wouldn’t he be in the way?

There were so many things he just hadn’t thought about. Logistics weren’t his strong suit. He usually left the planning to his Lady.

But, right now, he was on his own, and he was more than a little panicking. The world suddenly felt scary and dangerous, and he was still reeling from the conversation he’d overheard between his father and Nathalie. Gabriel’s words had cut deep. Perhaps Gabriel didn’t care about Adrien, but Adrien definitely still loved his father, despite his better judgment.

_“Calm down,”_ he internally coached. _“Don’t get akumatized.”_

It was then he noticed that he was coming up on his school, and the idea to hide out there struck him. He could sleep in one of the storage closets and use the gym showers, and no one would have to know. He could keep attending classes during the week and apartment hunt after hours.

He landed on the roof and stopped when he saw that the light was still on in the attic of Tom and Sabine’s bakery.

His heart leapt in his chest, and he suddenly knew where he wanted to be, whom he wanted to be with as he struggled to make sense of the harsh world he’d been unceremoniously thrown into.

He made his way over to Marinette’s balcony and tapped lightly on the skylight.

Within a minute, she was peering up at him curiously.

She unlatched the glass pane and stuck her head out. “Chat Noir?”

His heart swooped and then soared. It was such an unexpected balm to see her face, to hear her voice.

Already he felt calmer.

Meanwhile, Marinette’s brow furrowed in concern as she looked around, presumably for an akuma that might offer an excuse as to what he was doing out so late. “Are you all right? It’s almost three in the morning. What’s wrong?”

He managed a wan smile for her as he announced, “I’m running away from home.”

Her cornflower eyes flew wide, and she gasped.

“I was going to hunker down at the school, but I saw that your light was on, and I thought that it might be a good idea to have some company.” He swallowed, trying to hold in the tears. “Sorry to bother you so late. I’m just…kind of not okay right now, and I could really use a friend.”

“Get in here and let me hug you before you get akumatized,” Marinette demanded, reaching up and practically pulling him through the skylight.

She really wasn’t kidding about the hug. She tugged him down onto her bed, pressing his head to her chest as she played with his hair and rubbed his back, making soothing noises that reminded him of when he was little and his mother used to help him drift back to sleep after a nightmare.

He couldn’t stop the tears any longer, and he didn’t feel like he needed to.

She held him as his body shook, shushing him softly with kind, affectionate words.

He almost cried himself to sleep in her arms; however, once he’d finally quietened, she started to press for answers.

“Chat Noir, you said you were running away. You don’t have to talk about any of it now if you don’t want to, but just answer this one question, okay? Are you safe at home? I need to know whether we need to get the police involved—Only because I want you to be safe, okay? So don’t panic. No one is going to make you go back there if you don’t feel safe.”

He swallowed and cleared his throat before responding in a hoarse voice, “No one is physically hurting me, but…”

He took a deep breath, and she waited patiently.

“The…emotional and verbal…abuse…are kind of…bad,” he confessed, putting a label on it for the first time in his life.

Marinette tensed, squeezing him tighter.

“…And the neglect,” he added, the word tasting bitter in his mouth. “I don’t mean… I mean, they _do_ feed me and take me to the doctor and give me nice clothes and video games and everything, but…the _emotional_ neglect is…”

He swallowed, burrowing his face into her neck, letting her warmth and the sweetness of her scent comfort him. “…This is the first hug I’ve had in a long time, and I have to make an appointment if I want to see my father. He doesn’t eat meals with me. He doesn’t spend time with me. I mostly see him when he’s got something to reprimand me about, so…I’m safe, Marinette. If that’s what you mean by ‘safe’, no one is hurting me on the outside…but on the inside, I feel like I’m lying in a gutter bleeding out and no one cares.”

“ _I_ care,” she hissed into his hair, pressing her to him like she was afraid someone was going to try to take him away. “I care about you so much, Chat Noir, and there are other people who do too.”

He took another inhale of her scent, letting it calm him. “Thank you,” he breathed, as his heartrate and racing thoughts slowed.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” she whispered as her fingers ghosted through his hair, sending pleasant tingles down his spine.

“Stay like this for a while more?” he asked tentatively.

“As long as you need,” she assured, a strong edge of determination in her voice, as if she were prepared to stand sentinel all night to watch over him and make sure he was okay if that’s what he needed.

“Thank you,” he hummed, beginning to purr.

“Absolutely,” she stressed. “I’m really, really happy that you came here.”

“I didn’t really know where I was going at first,” he confessed. “I was just running. Maybe I subconsciously ran where I felt safe.”

She gave his hair a nuzzle, and they lay like that for several minutes before he spoke again.

“Today, I got in trouble for missing a few points on my chemistry test,” he chuckled ruefully. “I still got the top score in the class, but anything less than perfection is unacceptable for my father. He sent me to bed without dinner, so I woke up hungry. I was sneaking to the kitchen to get something to eat when I overheard Father talking to his girlfriend in his office. He said—”

Chat’s voice cracked, and he held tighter to Marinette for a minute as he struggled to compose himself.

“She was standing up for me. She told him how well I was doing in school, that my teachers all had great things to say about me, how everyone liked me and spoke well of how I had been raised. She was trying to get father to be kinder to me. She said he should be proud.”

He hiccupped as tears nearly choked him again.

“But he told her that I wasn’t his son. I was just a tool.”

Marinette gasped, drawing back to stare at him, visibly horrified.

“I do work for his company,” Chat explained. “I’m a marketing tool….” His expression darkened into a scowl. “He said I was a childish nuisance whom he was sick of pandering to. And he said I was the reason my mother was gone.”

“Oh, Chat Noir,” Marinette breathed, shaken at the complete lack of paternal affection.

She wanted to ask if there could be some mistake because how could a father speak so coldly of his son? But from what Chat had said earlier about the abuse and neglect, it was pretty clear that this was no misunderstanding.

“He’s lying,” Chat growled softly. “Maman left because he treated her poorly…just like he treats me.”

“Shhh,” Marinette cooed, leaning back in to nuzzle and pet his hair. “It’s okay, Minou. Everything’s going to be okay. You can stay here tonight. Tomorrow we’ll talk to my parents and figure things out. They’d probably be okay with you staying in the guest room until you figured out long-term plans, but let’s just take things one day at a time, okay? For now, you’re safe, you’ve got a roof over your head, and we’ll make sure you don’t go hungry.”

“Thank you, Marinette,” he chuckled, feeling giddy and sad and grateful and panicked all rolled into one. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

She gave him one last squeeze before pulling back to smile down at him encouragingly. “You don’t have to thank me. We’re friends. Friends look out for one another.”

He teared up again at that. “I feel so lucky to have you.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” she assured. “Now, are you still hungry, or did what your father said spoil your appetite? I’d be a poor host if I sent you to bed on an empty stomach.”

He pursed his lips, gauging the state of his stomach. “I don’t know,” he confessed. “I kind of feel nauseated, but, at the same time, I feel like I could eat a whole roast pig…and I don’t typically eat meat by choice.”

Marinette nodded, considering this information. “Okay. Let’s head down to the kitchen and make you some oatmeal or something easy on the stomach. I think we have some butternut squash soup leftover from Wednesday,” she informed as she got up and headed down the ladder.

“That actually sounds wonderful,” he hummed, and his stomach rumbled in agreement.

“All right,” she chuckled. “Soup it is. Oh. You can leave your duffle bag there on the chaise longue, if you like.”

“Thanks. I actually have some Camembert with me for my kwami, Plagg. Would it be too much trouble to put it in your fridge? It gets a little fragrant when it sits out,” he explained sheepishly.

“No, absolutely. No trouble at all,” she assured. “Hey, does your kwami need a break? How long have you guys been out running? If you like, I can put the Camembert away and heat up some soup for you while you detransform and take care of Plagg in the bathroom. Only if you want,” she added, not wanting to pressure or overwhelm him.

“Actually, yeah.” Chat beamed in gratitude, so glad that she was thinking of all the things he was still too raw to consider. It made him feel better to have someone else there to come up with the plan. He was sure he _could_ do it if he really had to, but he wasn’t used to it, so it was easier to let someone else drive when he was running on fumes. “That’s a great idea. Thank you, Marinette.”

“No worries. I’ve got you.” She grinned at him and winked, making his stomach feel all funny for reasons that were not because it was starting to eat itself for nourishment.

Once Chat Noir had finished consulting with and feeding his kwami, he came out into the kitchen, transformed once more.

Marinette set his bowl of butternut squash soup down on the table and followed it up with a spoon and a napkin. “No worries if you can’t finish it. Just eat what you can, and, if you don’t like it, just tell me, and we can find you something else, okay?”

“Thanks, Marinette.” He managed to smile easily for the first time that evening. “I’m sure it’s delicious.”

She sat at the table with him as he ate, and it was nice to have the company. The silence between them was comfortable, so different from the ringing absence of noise that was the usual soundtrack to his meals.

“This is really good,” he commented several bites into the soup. “Thank you again.”

“You’re very welcome! I’m just glad you like it,” she replied cheerily.

He smiled sadly down into his bowl. “You know, I don’t ever get homecooked meals.”

Her lips pressed together, and her brow scrunched into three worried trenches. “No?”

He shook his head. “I mean, the kitchen staff makes fresh meals every day, but it’s not homecooked food. It’s nutritious, and it tastes fine, but it feels really sterile and staged. I appreciate the effort the staff puts in, but I’m tired of professionally plated food like you’d get from a restaurant. Like, seriously,” he laughed derisively. “I am so sick of those stupid sprigs of parsley. It’s a total waste.”

He looked up at her and winced as he realized that she was staring at him like she had no way of understanding or relating to what he was saying.

“Sorry,” he muttered, shoveling another bite of soup into his mouth. “Ignore the rich boy complaining about first-world problems. I know I’m lucky just to have food on my plate. I shouldn’t whine.”

She reached out, resting her hand on his. “It’s okay.” She smiled reassuringly. “I think I kind of get it. In my family, food is love. We make each other’s favourites to show that we care, and we have special dishes for special occasions. You want to eat something that someone’s put some thought and love into, not something that someone made for you just because it’s their job.”

He teared up again as he nodded.

She gave his hand a squeeze. “No worries. I’m certain my parents will let you stay with us until you’re back up on your feet. You’ll get to eat some homemade food while you’re here.”

He sniffled, wiping away tears as he smiled wide at the thought. “I’d really like that.”

She gave his hand a pat before slowly pulling back so that he could finish his soup.

“…My mother…when either of us had a bad day, she would kick the kitchen staff out, and we’d make a big salad and share it,” he informed her a few minutes later, a fragile smile wavering on his lips. “I don’t think she could actually cook, and I don’t think salad really counts as home cooking, but it’s always been my comfort food because of those moments with my mother. I’d like to have more associations like that with food. It seems like something most other people have.”

“We can work on that,” Marinette promised, starting to compile a mental list of all the foods she needed to introduce him to. “…Would you want to make cookies?”

He blinked at her, somewhat startled by the seeming non sequitur. “Cookies?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Cookies. You look like you could still use some cheering up and a distraction. Baking is one of the ways I deal, so I thought maybe it would be good for you too. But if you’re tired, we can just go to bed. I wasn’t doing anything important when you showed up, so if you want to just go to sleep after you finish your soup, that’s absolutely fine. You must be exhausted.”

“What kind of cookies?” he inquired, intrigued by the prospect.

“What’s your favourite?” she countered.

He pressed his lips together, trying to narrow down the list. “…Snickerdoodle?”

She nodded her approbation. “Sure. I’m not sure if we have any cream of tartar on hand, but, if not, we can just sub in lemon juice, and it’s pretty comparable.”

“I’ve never made cookies before,” he confessed as if telling her he’d accidentally killed a man once.

She gaped at him. “Oh, we definitely need to fix that. Hurry up with your soup. I’m going to start getting the ingredients out.”

He gave her the thumbs up and returned to his soup with gusto, silently thanking whatever deity who had loved him enough to bring Marinette into his life.

Cookies were serious business, Chat Noir quickly learned.

Adrien had eaten cookie dough at Nino’s house once before, and it had never occurred to him that the dough itself had to be made, and _of course_ they made dough from scratch in Marinette’s family.

She was patient, though, guiding him through each of the steps and slowly explaining what he needed to do. She never seemed to get frustrated with him, even as he awkwardly struggled to do things she had probably been doing since she could stand on a stepstool to reach the counter.

“Use the spatula to scrape the sides of the bowl to make sure all the ingredients get incorporated,” she coached. “Otherwise, you’ll end up with lumps of flour in your dough. There you go. You’ve got it.”

She never held his ignorance against him, and it was really nice to get praise for his efforts without the expectation of perfection.

It seemed a little silly to finally get the validation he’d been craving his entire life from making cookies, but…Marinette made him feel really, really good. The way she cheered him on and celebrated his little victories (like managing to make dough balls of a consistent size) made him feel like he was accomplishing something important.

When she beamed at him proudly and said, “You’re doing such a good job”, it dawned on him that he loved her.

He _had_ loved her for a very long time, and he was so dumb for never letting himself admit to these feelings before.

“Now we’re going to roll the dough balls in the cinnamon sugar mixture,” she explained, demonstrating, completely oblivious to his life-changing revelation.

He was going to think of the rush of falling in love whenever he ate snickerdoodle cookies from now on.

“Just do your best to try to give it an even coating. We can brush some off if you get too much, so don’t worry about it,” she encouraged with a beatific smile.

He’d have to tell her later. Not right away lest she think his feelings were solely the result of the emotional rollercoaster his life had become. He’d have to wait a couple weeks until he was feeling more grounded.

He took one of the dough balls and experimentally rolled it in the cinnamon and sugar. He evaluated his work, shook a few of the granules off, and then held up the glob for Marinette’s inspection. “Like that?”

She grinned and nodded her approval. “Just like that! You’re a natural.”

He puffed up a little at that, feeling good that he had finally found something he was good at. He had to remind himself that he was good at a lot of things…this was just the first time that he was getting the recognition he deserved.

They were about a third of the way through when the apartment door opened and Tom walked in. “Marinette?” he called for his daughter, and then his eyes went wide when he took note of the unexpected guest. “And Chat Noir?”

Marinette glanced at the clock on the microwave and blanched when she realized it was a full thirty minutes before her father usually woke up. “Oh my gosh, Papá! I’m so sorry. Did we wake you?”

“No, no,” he assured with a good-natured chuckle, waving his meaty hands. “I got up early to get a head start on a big order we have today, and I heard you moving around up here, so I just wanted to make sure everything was all right.”

His eyes landed on Chat Noir (who was currently petrified in terror like an aquaphobe on a log raft drifting on the open sea), and the superhero squeaked (in a dignified manner).

Marinette stepped between her father and her partner. “Papá, Chat Noir needs a place to stay.” She placed a grounding hand on Chat’s arm. “He’s escaping from a bad home situation.”

Tom’s already furrowed brow rearranged itself from confusion to concern.

“I said he could stay here tonight and that I’d talk to you and Maman about putting him up in the guestroom while we help him figure out what next steps are,” Marinette explained.

Tom was already nodding before his daughter even finished. “Of course. I’ll let your mother know when she comes down to the bakery.” He turned to look at Chat Noir. “How old are you, son? Do we need to call the police or child services?”

Chat Noir snapped to attention, shaking his head. “N-No. I’m…I’m an adult.”

Tom’s bushy eyebrow arched up to meet his hairline.

“I turned eighteen a few days ago,” Chat supplemented. “My birthday is April thirtieth.”

Marinette gave him an odd look at that.

In his haste to prove to Tom that Chat was, in fact, a grownup, he overlooked the possibility that Marinette (who knew who else had a birthday on April thirtieth because she had given him a handmade bowtie for the occasion…that he’d forgotten to pack, darn it) might put two and two together and guess his identity.

“All right,” Tom sighed returning both Marinette and Chat Noir’s attention to the present moment. “You’re still a kid in my book, Chat Noir, but I think the legal system would disagree with me. Regardless, you’re more than welcome here as long as you need us.”

“Thank you, Papá.” Marinette gave her father a bright smile even as she squeezed Chat’s arm.

Tom nodded, waving away her thanks. “It’s the least we can do for one of Paris’s heroes,” he informed matter-of-factly. “Especially one who’s saved Marinette more times than I care to count over the years.”

Marinette grumbled under her breath, a light pink blush crawling up her neck and across her cheeks.

“Always happy to help,” Chat assured, “but I’d be happier if she were in danger less.”

“Hear, hear,” Tom snorted. “Do you have any bags you need help moving down to the guestroom, son?”

“He’s staying with me tonight,” Marinette intervened. “He doesn’t have much with him, but we’ll move him tomorrow.”

A displeased frown started to wrinkle Tom’s brow, but Marinette gave him a look that clearly said that she was almost a grown woman and she knew her mind and knew that he knew better than to argue with a Cheng woman who knew her mind.

“I’m concerned that he might get akumatized, Papá. He’s had a rough night, and he needs a friend right now. He’s staying with me, and we’ll move him down tomorrow or whenever he’s feeling better.”

Tom sighed, knowing from many happy years of marriage that there was no point in arguing with a Cheng woman who knew her mind.

“All right,” Tom bowed out of the fight gracefully. “I’ll be down in the bakery if you need anything. Go to sleep soon, you two.”

“After cookies. Thanks, Papá.” She blew him a kiss that made him beam with affection for his little girl.

“Thank you, Monsieur Dupain,” Chat added tentatively.

Tom rolled his eyes and shook his head, still smiling. “It’s ‘Tom’, Chat Noir.”

“Thank you…Tom,” Chat amended, feeling very weird indeed…but kind of weird in a good way.

After the cookies were baked, half were eaten, and the rest put away for later, Chat and Marinette headed back to her room.

“Are you sure you’re okay with me in your space like this?” he inquired tentatively, afraid she would say no.

“Of course it’s okay,” she assured, climbing up to her loft (having changed into pyjamas while they waited for the cookies to bake). “Come on up.”

He blinked at her eruditely. “I thought…I was sleeping on the chaise?”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Nope. I’ve fallen asleep on that thing before. It’s not comfortable. Besides, won’t you feel better if you’ve got someone to cuddle with?”

His mouth dropped open, and he contemplated telling her he was in love with her then and there because it felt deceitful to let her think that this would only be platonic cuddling for him, but…

“Sorry,” she started to backtrack. “We don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I just wanted to let you know that I’m available for snuggling if that will help.”

“Snuggling would be nice, actually,” he confessed. “I sometimes have nightmares, and it helps to have my kwami Plagg to cuddle with, so…” He bit his lip, debating. “But you should probably know beforehand that I…”

He could feel the heat washing over his cheeks, quickly spreading under his suit to every centimeter of skin.

“I don’t want to take advantage of the situation. I have feelings for you, so…” He shrugged, trying to make it out as if this wasn’t one of the hugest deals of his life.

“Same,” she admitted with a bashful grin and an attractive blush dusting the bridge of her nose.

He felt like he’d been clotheslined by an akuma. “Oh.”

She shrugged. “This isn’t about that, though. Just like when I was holding you earlier. This is about taking care of you, making sure you’re okay. I can compartmentalize.”

He wasn’t sure if he could in that moment.

“If this is going to keep you up all night, then we shouldn’t snuggle,” she reasoned. “If you think it will help you sleep better, then we should. Thoughts?”

None he was comfortable voicing because she didn’t need to know right then and there how wonderful and attractive she was to him.

“Snuggling sounds good,” he decided, knowing he would sleep better to the sound of her breathing and heartbeat, the sweet scent of her strawberry shampoo and oatmeal bodywash.

She pulled down the covers and beckoned him up to the loft. Once there, she hit him with another surprise. “Do you want to detransform? Would you be more comfortable?”

He winced. “Ladybug would throttle me if I revealed my identity to you, Marinette. It’s not that I don’t want to.”

“Oh. Sorry,” she hissed, turning to grab two sleep masks off of the little bookshelf in the wall at the head of her bed. “I didn’t mean reveal your identity. I know you can’t for your safety and mine. I meant, I could put on a sleep mask so that I wouldn’t see you, and you could put on a sleep mask so that if mine comes off or my parents come to wake us, your face will mostly be covered still. Does that work?”

“Oh,” he chuckled, feeling silly. “You’re so smart, Marinette!”

It was hard not to sigh and melt and fawn over her when she just kept being amazing.

She laughed at that, handing him a sleep mask. She set about moving her cat body pillow so that it was pressed up against the bed railing, further blocking them from view in case her parents came to check on them.

“Did you want to go change into pyjamas? Did you bring pyjamas with you?” she inquired, slipping the sleep mask down over her eyes and adjusting it to make sure it was secure.

“Good idea,” he replied, hopping down over the railing onto the chaise to retrieve his pyjamas from his duffle.

He went down to the bathroom to detransform and change, transforming again for his trek back to Marinette’s room, lest her parents choose that moment to pop in on them and find Adrien Agreste in their living room.

Chat hit the light and settled in beside Marinette, releasing his transformation, the bright flash of green dazzling in the darkness.

“Thank you for all of this,” he whispered, feeling fragile and exposed without his suit.

Marinette opened her mouth to say “you’re welcome” but cut herself off with a squeak as he pressed his lips to her cheek.

He took a minute to appreciate how wide she was smiling and then slipped his own sleep mask down into place.

Once he was lying still beside her, Marinette scooted closer, wrapping her arms lightly around him, gentle and supportive.

Everything felt warm and smelled delicious when he woke the next morning, and it took him a minute to remember where he was.

“I still have my eye mask on. Are you awake?” Marinette asked gently.

If he said yes, he’d have to remove his head from her stomach, and he really didn’t want to do that.

He let out a grumble of opposition in lieu of a proper response.

She giggled, and it made him beam, his chest filling with a warm, fluttery sensation.

“You can keep sleeping as long as you like,” she assured, petting his hair like a real cat, “but I need to get up and see if my parents need help with the big catering order or manning the counter while they deal with that.”

“There’s no point lying in bed if you’re not here too,” he sighed and was rewarded with a sweet nuzzle. “May I come with you?”

“Of course,” she easily agreed. “If you want, you can use the bathroom downstairs to get dressed and feed Plagg. I’ll change up here and meet you in the kitchen, okay?”

“Sounds good.” He took off his own sleep mask and set it aside as he called on his transformation, grabbed a clean set of clothes, and headed down to change.

“What would you like for breakfast?” Marinette inquired with a smile when she came into the kitchen fifteen minutes later, her hair up in the most adorable Multimouse buns.

“Anything is fine,” he insisted. “I’ll just eat whatever you’re having. I don’t want to be any trouble.”

She rolled her eyes, giving the underside of his chin a scratch. “You’re no trouble, Chat Noir. Seriously. What do you want?”

He pressed his lips together and went over to the fridge with her to size up the options. “Maybe…some yogurt? With fruit and a drizzle of honey?”

“That sounds good,” she agreed, getting out the yogurt container and assorted cartons of berries. “I usually add granola pieces to mine. Want some?”

“Sure,” he replied, taking off his gloves so that he could help her wash the berries.

They had just sat down to eat when Marinette’s phone rang, interrupting her in the middle of her explanation of the Gucci contest she was planning on entering.

“Sorry,” she apologized as she picked the phone up off the counter, glancing at the readout. “It’s my friend Nino.”

Chat’s stomach knotted with a presentiment of dread.

“I’ll call him back later,” she added dismissively, setting the phone back down.

No sooner had the call ended than the phone burst to life once more.

Marinette frowned.

“You should answer,” Chat coaxed, thinking that he probably knew what this was about. “It might be important.”

“If you don’t mind,” Marinette hummed, answering the call. “Hey, Nino,” she greeted, walking over to the living room area to pace as they talked. “What’s up?”

Chat’s enhanced hearing picked up on his best friend’s panicked voice on the other end of the line, and he felt guilty.

“Adrien?” Marinette asked in surprise. “No. Why?”

She stopped pacing, her face going as white as her yogurt. “W-What?” Her voice broke on the word. “…Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh.”

Chat winced, mind racing to come up with some way of easing her fears without exposing his identity.

“Okay. I’ll let you know…. Bye, Nino,” Marinette concluded the call in a daze.

Chat looked at her, and the guilt almost made him sick. “You okay?” he asked uselessly, going over to put a hand on her shoulder and cup her cheek.

She shook her head. “M-My friend…Adrien Agreste…he’s missing. He ran away last night, and no one’s heard from him,” she explained, terror soaking the words. She shook her head. “Something could have happened to him. I have to go find him, Chat Noir. I have to go…” Her eyes caught his, and she stopped, the panic evaporating. “…search.”

She stared at him, studying his face.

He tried not to fidget under her intent gaze.

Marinette took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and asked, “ _Do_ I need to go search for Adrien, Chat Noir?”

He only hesitated for a second before sheepishly shaking his head, confirming, “No. I’m safe, Marinette.”

He dropped his transformation, and she pulled him into a tight hug.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” she whispered, tearing up.

She didn’t know what else to say. She felt like she needed to apologize for never realizing just how bad things were at home for Adrien, but that was probably a sore subject he didn’t want to dwell on then and there.

So she just held him closer, and he melted into her arms.

“Sorry for worrying you,” he mumbled, still feeling guilty.

She looked up at him, holding his gaze for a moment before leaning in and ghosting her lips against his. “It’s okay,” she assured.

His mouth twitched into a smile as a pink tint spilled over his cheeks. “You make me believe that.”

“It _is_ okay, Adrien,” she insisted more firmly, reaching up to pet his hair. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to get through this together.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, nuzzling her hair, feeling calm once more. “Sorry for the identity reveal. I wasn’t really thinking last night, coming here as Chat Noir. I was honestly going to camp out in one of the storage rooms at school, but… I guess we’ll have to tell your parents too.”

Marinette winced. “We could always tell them that Chat Noir made other arrangements but now Adrien needs to use the guestroom because he decided to leave a bad family situation too.”

“Your parents aren’t dumb, Marinette,” he chuckled.

“Yeah,” she sighed, pulling him in closer and dropping her head to his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I promise to do everything possible to protect you and your family. I won’t let knowing my secret put you in danger.”

“It’s okay,” she reiterated in an attempt to take some of the pressure off.

They stood there holding one another for a long time, trying to put themselves back together. When they finally did pull apart, Marinette gave Adrien’s arm a comforting pat, and he squeezed her shoulder in answer.

Tentatively, they smiled, blushing shyly.

Adrien borrowed Marinette’s phone to call Nino and let him know he was safe and to call off the search party.

Meanwhile, Marinette moved their breakfast things over to the coffee table.

“So we can sit on the couch and snuggle while we eat,” she explained. “I just really need to hold you right now, if that’s okay.”

“You can hold me anytime,” he eagerly insisted, happily sliding into her arms.

A minute later, a thought occurred to him. “Is this…platonic snuggling or romantic snuggling?”

She considered for a moment. “I think…for right now, it should probably be platonic snuggling with romantic undertones. Maybe, in a week or two, once things settle down for you emotionally, if you still want it to be romantic snuggling, it can be romantic snuggling then.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m still going to be in love with you two weeks from now,” he snickered, gently rubbing the side of his face against her hair, careful not to mess up the buns.

She gasped, clearly not having previously realized the extent of his feelings for her as either Adrien or Chat Noir.

Her arms tightened around him.

“But we can wait and make sure, if that’s what you want.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Until then, platonic snuggling with romantic undertones is fine. Any affection you give me at all is fine, Marinette.”

She turned her head, pressing a light kiss to his neck and silently vowing that he would never feel alone or unloved ever again.

The

End

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, everyone! I hope you liked it. ^.^
> 
> Come follow me on [Tumblr](https://mikauzoran.tumblr.com/).


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